A Little Faith In You
by ZeraWeasley
Summary: Pre season 9. Castiel wakes up after Falling and has to deal with the consequences. Alone and powerless, he has nowhere else to turn. But how will Sam and Dean react when they find out what he had done?


_Confusion. _

The first thing Castiel was aware of when he regained consciousness was an immense weight on his being like he had been anchored to the Earth itself. It was a moment before he realized the weight was a human body – _his_ body.

He sat up with a sharp intake of breath. _No, no, no. This couldn't have happened._

It was as though the ground had been pulled out from under him; his head spun and blood pounded between his ears like a jackhammer. Something sharp and agonizing was clawing at his throat.

_Pain._

The fallen angel clutched frantically at his neck as if by some miracle he would be able to shove his grace back into the wound and heal it. He clenched his eyes shut, praying to his father between gasps of pain. He strained his perception, trying to catch even a mere whisper of an angelic reply.

It made no difference.

He couldn't hear anything over the harsh sound of his own breathing. There was nothing left of his divinity but an incurable ache around his neck and shoulders.

Finally, Cas drew a shuddering breath, feeling every muscle in his human body tense and relax. He was still alive, and there were other ways of contacting Heaven. There was no point in expending his resources over his lost Grace when more important work had to be done.

Slowly, the fallen angel opened his eyes. Then he blinked. There was nothing but blackness ahead of him. He was seized with the irrational thought that he was going blind, before he realized that it was night time. Squinting into the darkness, he was able to make out the faint outlines of trees and shrubbery when something in the sky drew his attention.

Cas scrambled to his feet, ignoring the ache in his muscles. A pinprick of light had appeared above him, and seemed to fall through the cloudy night. More and more of them followed, illuminating the night sky. Something cold and terrible plunged into his gut at the sight of them. Steadily they grew bigger and clearer.

When he realized what they were, Cas felt his stomach drop. The same feeling seized his throat and paralyzed his body. The urge to run, to just run far away, rose in his chest. It clouded every other sense he had.

_Fear. _

Rough underbrush tore at his vessel's clothes as Cas stumbled through the forest, his breath coming in quick gasps. An entourage of emotions rushed through his body, and it utterly terrified him.

Certainly, he had been aware of Jimmy Novak's feelings in the first months before the human soul was able to ascend into Heaven, but they had been dim at most. He'd never felt anything so strong and primal at the forefront of his mind, pumping through his system, urging his human form onwards despite the fact that it was entirely unused to such strenuous activity.

It was getting harder and harder to breathe properly. With a jolt, Cas realized that this was because he was panicking.

The wind whipped around him mercilessly, and the sky was streaked with red and gold. Knowing it wasn't coloured by shooting stars but by his brothers and sisters sent a sharp stab of pain through his chest. He clutched at his heart as he ran, willing the pain to stop, but to no avail.

As the fallen angel glanced at the foliage flashing past, another new emotion settled itself into his stomach.

_Loneliness. _

All the trees looked the same, and there was no one else around to assist him. His mind, previously clamouring with the thoughts of his brothers and sisters as well as the prayers of humans, was silent. His own _mind_ was devoid of everything he had ever known. He couldn't reach out to find where any of the other angels had fallen. He couldn't even sense the magnetic poles to locate his own position on the planet. It was like something had blindfolded his very existence. He was utterly lost.

A new wave of fear flooded Cas's insides. His legs gave out from under him, sending him sprawling into the dirt. He flung his arms out, scratching his palms as his velocity pushed him over the side of a hill.

It wasn't particularly steep, but the rough terrain, littered with sticks and debris, scraped against his skin, scratching through his clothing. A gasp escaped him involuntarily, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for the discomfort to pass.

Cas didn't know how long he stayed prone, but fatigue and a sense of hopelessness began to settle over his limbs and it took all his strength not to simply give up right then and there.

When he forced himself to look up, he was met with a wave of nausea.

Just beyond him, skewered on a sharp tree stump, was a burnt, broken form, barely recognizable as humanoid. The scent of charred flesh permeated the air around them. Imprints of wings had been scorched into the ground beside the corpse, but the wind had already begun to cover them with leaves. It wouldn't take long for the body to disintegrate, leaving no trace of the horrific incident behind.

The heap of ashes had been had been alive, had been _an angel_, just a short while ago. Cas had probably known him or her. They had probably grown up together, exchanged duties, fought together, or fought against each other. Now they were gone, and Cas didn't even know their name. There was no telling how many more of his brothers and sisters had met with a similar fate. _And it was his fault, all his fault._ Something in his gut twisted violently, and he choked back a scream.

_Guilt_.

Trapped, and feeling so vulnerable, so _human_, he felt bile rise in his throat.

Heaving himself to his knees, Cas retched. He felt like his intestines were about to turn inside out, but still he continued to heave. Stomach acid tore at his already ravaged throat – there was nothing left to throw up. As he wiped his mouth, his throat was screaming for water, and his stomach was writhing in hunger. The fact that lack of nutrition would be enough to kill this mortal body terrified him even more.

He didn't even know if he could return to heaven if – no, _when_ he died. He was no longer immortal. Panic threatened to engulf him again.

Suddenly, a voice cut through his haze of fear.

"Cas! CASTIEL!"

The fallen angel lurched to his feet, recognizing the voice as Dean's. The panic in the man's tone rivaled what was clawing at Cas's insides.

He took a few stumbling steps, belatedly realizing that he was no longer hearing Dean's calls through prayer and that he had to move in the direction of the hunter's voice. He tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, shoving the troublesome emotions and the body's physical demands into the corner of his mind.

Something close to relief but also to worry pierced his chest when he came into sight of the Impala. Dean was crouching by his car, holding Sam's weak form. Cas didn't have to get close to know why Sam was clutching at Dean's sleeve and that although Dean's head was bowed, his eyes were reddened from crying. Another pang of guilt threatened to sweep his legs from under him. The Winchesters were his brothers too.

"Dean… Sam…" he rasped, stumbling over.

When Dean looked up, the fallen angel saw that his prediction had been true, but the sight made him feel like he had been stabbed again.

Ignoring Dean's broken, "Cas, what the hell happened?" he dropped to his knees beside Sam, reaching out to touch the younger Winchester's pale forehead.

Nothing happened.

He'd forgotten for a moment. He felt Dean's incredulous eyes boring into him and his throat constricted painfully.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Sam's other hand shakily came up to close around Cas's grimy fingers and lowered them to his chest. The man's skin was feverishly hot.

"It's fine," he murmured weakly, giving the fallen angel's hand a light squeeze.

"No, it's not fine," Dean cut in, unable to keep the edge of panic out of his voice any longer. "What's wrong? Why can't you fix him?"

Beyond the turbulence of fear, panic, and confusion, Cas felt a wretched emptiness seeping into his veins. He was more aware of human mortality then ever before and he had no idea what to do. He looked helplessly from Sam to Dean, and back. He was absolutely useless, yet Sam's eyes held nothing but sympathy. Somehow, this was worse than the haze of fear and confusion that had seized his mind in the forest.

"I'm sorry," Cas repeated, his voice cracking. "I was tricked by Metatron."

Something warm and wet slid down his cheek. Then another. And another. His entire body was trembling like a leaf in a thunderstorm. Distantly he registered the fact that crying could be taken as a sign of weakness, but he couldn't stop. He squeezed Sam's hand, breathing heavily around the lump in his throat. His head throbbed, and nausea rolled into the pit of his stomach once more.

Then he felt Dean's hand clenched around his shoulder. "Pull yourself together, Cas. We'll figure this out, like we always do," Dean said desperately.

His stomach twisted. More tears stung at his eyes, and the fallen angel choked back a sob. He couldn't. Not after he'd failed them time and time again. Not when he was stupid enough to lose his own Grace and practically destroy his home. Not while he was so useless he had to watch his friends suffer. He didn't deserve them.

Suddenly Sam grimaced, pain evident in his eyes, and Cas realized that he had voiced his thoughts aloud.

"Don't – Don't you say that, not to us," Dean growled, wrapping an arm around his brother. "We've been through too much… you can't just throw yourself away."

Cas looked up at the hunter. He saw his own fear reflected in Dean's eyes, but behind that, he saw something else unvoiced along with the Dean's mulish determination. It quelled the turmoil of panic, loneliness, and confusion raging in his mind.

Then Dean looked back at Sam and Cas saw the same… same _thing_ reflected in the younger Winchester's expression. Whatever it was, Sam seemed to relax, though he didn't let go of either of them.

"Cas?" They were both looking at him.

The newly human ex-angel swallowed the lump in his throat. His body still ached and his eyes still stung, but his mind was much calmer. He knew they had limited options, but Sam was not yet beyond saving.

He took a deep breath and rasped, "Nevermind me. We need to get Sam to the Men of Letters cave."

Too frayed to mask his emotions, relief visibly poured over Dean's face. "Alright," he said immediately, "Help me get Sam in the Impala."

Sam didn't protest being put in the back seat; he was too exhausted to sit up straight, much less make an argument.

As Cas helped Dean ease Sam's body into the car, he was hyper aware of every muscle in his human body straining to compensate for the angelic strength he was used to wielding. It sent jolts of pain through his limbs, but he was grateful, because now the pain was a welcome distraction from the darkness lurking in the back of his mind. Rivulets of sweat ran down his forehead and covered the tear tracks that had previously stained his face. It all felt strangely foreign.

He practically collapsed into the passenger seat of the Impala, groaning. The interior gave him an odd sense of comfort, making him recall the few times he had been in the car. Then, he hadn't noticed how soft the leather had been.

As he settled into the seat, he felt the remnants of adrenaline in his body ebb away. The darkness was calling to him. With heavy eyelids, he watched Dean join him on the driver's side. He wondered if it was okay to succumb, just for a little while.

"Get some sleep, both of you," said Dean, as he started the engine.

The older Winchester glanced back at Sam's now barely conscious form curled up in the back seat and Cas saw the unnamed emotion yet again.

Something in his memory stirred. He remembered warmth, joy, devotion. And a faint image of one of his brothers from long ago, practically glowing with…

"_Faith._"

Dean looked over at him, deliberately pressing his foot against the gas pedal until they were well past the speed limit. "What?"

"Faith... That's what I saw when you looked at Sam," Cas replied drowsily. The familiar roar of the Impala's engine was filling the silence in his mind, like an ancient song he had missed, but not forgotten. The darkness was closing in on him like a gentle embrace.

The hunter seemed to contemplate the other man's words as he stared at the road ahead. His fingers twitched on the steering wheel. His mouth moved. Cas was sure Dean had said something, but he was distracted by the shadows flashing past the car. They reminded him of dark waves, rising and falling... Without even realizing it, he fell asleep.

* * *

**A/N: I just wanted to quickly publish this before season 9 comes out and ruins my expectations. I wrote this because I wanted to explore what human emotions would feel like to Cas, who has largely been an outsider, and how he would deal with it. It was a hell of a lot more dramatic in my head. I guess it came off as kind of... lazy? because of the way I just outright stated whatever it was he was supposed to be feeling. **

**Please review and tell me what you think of this style! **

**BTW, in case it's not clear, what Cas thinks is Faith is supposed to be Love (in this case, platonic familial love). I assumed since he was raised to love God and have unquestionable faith in Him that he'd think it was the same thing. I think Sam and Dean would appreciate his interpretation though :)**


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